Only You
by Shunyata Ryuen
Summary: Ever wonder what might've happened if Nuriko'd listened to Tamahome and let him go get the Shinzaho? An AU fic in progress. **Spoilers**
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: I am currently involved in a rather lengthy law dispute with Yuu Watase...but, until that clears up and my blackmailing photos have had a chance to be aired...well, none of this belongs to me. Alas.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an AU fic. Now, personally, I don't believe in messing around with episode 33--Nuriko's death is one of the most important aspects of the series, and causes a lot of growth in Miaka, the others, and the show itself as a whole. However...I often find myself wondering what might've happened if Nuriko had listened to Tamahome and let HIM go after the shinzaho. Thus, this fic will be devoted to that very endeavor. This is the beginning...but, I'll be working on the rest of it whenever I can. So. That's all for me...read, review, and enjoy. ^_^.  
  
----  
  
"Only You"  
by Ryuen  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The sky was clear and bright, the sunlight a cool stream of streaky brightness through the lightly-blowing snow.  
  
A lone figure stood silently before the inn window, gazing out into the angled snow drifts with glazed, unseeing eyes. The nearby bustle of his companions' movements was the only sound aside from the chill, sweeping rush of the winter wind...it brushed the dampened hair back from his forehead, swept a cool, icy balm over his skin...made the disturbing realizations of the previous day seem less important, less painful and frightening.  
  
//You're just a character in a book...\\  
  
He shuddered, wrapping slender arms around himself and letting out a soft sigh. Behind him, he could hear the slosh of Nuriko pouring tea into a mug, accompanied by the older man's soft humming...but, aside from that, the room was silent. He turned, arms still folded lightly over his chest, and studied the violet-haired seishi's movements--he watched as Nuriko poured the last of the tea into a narrow porcelain mug, as he swept back into the kitchen area of the small room and returned the teapot to its place in the corner, as he returned to his seat and lowered himself into it. Nuriko sat there for a moment, gazing into the bubbling depths of his tea, before finally noticing the younger man's stare, glancing up from the steaming mug.   
  
He offered a slight smile. "Ne, Tama-chan," he said softly. His slender fingers rubbed gently at the sides of the mug, turned it back and forth on the table. "Still don't feel like talking about it?"  
  
Tamahome stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. "Hm?" he managed at last, taking a short step away from the window. "About what?"  
  
Nuriko grinned, brought the mug to his lips and took a long, gratifying gulp. "About what's been bugging you since yesterday," he explained briefly, those dark, rosy violet eyes glittering in the early morning sunlight. The smile softened slightly. "You know it'll drive you crazy until you tell someone, ne, Tamahome?"  
  
He considered it for a long moment. He considered sinking down into that chair, folding his hands onto the table, and telling Nuriko the whole story--about running into Yui...about being a character in a book...about all his fears that he and Miaka might never be able to be together. He considered, very seriously, telling Nuriko about all of it...but, then almost immediately decided against it. No...today was for finding the shinzaho, for finally having the means to call Suzaku,...for getting things back to how they were supposed to be. And...for defeating Nakago. Yes. For that most of all.  
  
Besides...considering what they'd talked about last night...he doubted that Nuriko was the most ideal person to be confiding in about his fears over he and Miaka staying together.  
  
//I found myself in love with Miaka as a man...\\  
  
Tamahome sighed, leaned his back gently against the nearby wall. He closed his eyes, very lightly, well aware of Nuriko's concerned stare pressing into him. "Iie," he said at last, managing a small smile. "Arrigato...but, I don't want to talk about it. At least, not right now." He cleared his throat, straightened and strode to the side of the table. "But...after we find the shinzaho..." He smiled. "Maybe then."  
  
Nuriko matched the smile, reaching forward to slide a second mug of tea to Tamahome's VVside of the table. "I'll hold you to that, Tama-chan." The smile widened into a grin, and Nuriko placed both hands around the sides of his own mug, lifted it into the air. "Come on," he stated firmly. "Drink up. You've gotta get something into your system to cancel out all those Nuriko Specials."  
  
At the mention of their unexpected drinking binge the night before, Tamahome let out a low groan, pressed a hand to his forehead. "Right," he muttered, grabbing onto his own mug and bringing it to his lips. It tasted surprisingly good, a dark, rich tea with a light splash of peppermint tingling through. He smiled, allowing himself a long moment to savor the taste.  
  
Noticing his approval, Nuriko nodded, took his own long, dragging sip. "Delicious, ne?" He winked. "Secret harem recipe. Only the best for the possible wives of the emperor..." A boyish grin crept over his lips. "Or possible husbands."  
  
Tamahome watched the older man for a long moment in silence, taking in the short, cropped violet of his hair, the graceful ease of his movements, the slight smile still hanging from his lips. Finally, he let out a soft breath, turned a speculative eye to his companion. "Ne...Nuriko..."  
  
Nuriko glanced up at him, raised his eyebrows. "Hm?"  
  
"Last night...what you said about Miaka and me..."  
  
The older man smiled, lowered his head slightly and closed his eyes. "I meant it," he said softly. "Every word. I want Miaka to be happy." The smile twisted a bit, turned bittersweet...but, it was still a smile...and still bright and pure and true. "Miaka can't be happy with me, Tamahome. She loves you...and only you. Not Hotohori-sama...not Tasuki...not me...you. Only you." Nuriko looked up, then, and his eyes were large and serious. "Make her happy, ne? For all of us."  
  
Tamahome nodded, a soft, grateful smile touching his lips. "I will, Nuriko. For as long as I live."  
  
Nuriko smiled. "That's the spirit." He rose to his feet, took a moment to deposit his mug on the edge of the counter. "Now, come on. Miaka's waiting outside with the horses."  
  
The younger seishi blinked, rose hurriedly to his feet. "By herself?" he demanded, eyes wide and worried. "A-After what happened yesterday, she's out there ALONE?"  
  
Nuriko grinned, took a step forward and patted Tamahome lightly on the shoulder. "Ne, calm down. She's right outside."  
  
Tamahome sighed, following the older man out the door and into the hallway. "What an idiot," he muttered after a moment. "She almost gets killed yesterday and then she runs right out by herself again..."  
  
A glimmer of pain crossed Nuriko's face...and Tamahome stopped, a sudden memory striking into him--last night, just after they stumbled into the room to go to sleep...he remembered gazing out from the soft sheets of his bed, catching a glimpse of the other man undressing for bed. He'd been standing near the cool, closed glass of the window, the soft silver flickers of moonlight bathing him in a soft, statuesque glow, and Tamahome had watched as he gingerly lifted the heavy blue tunic over his head, winced as if in pain...  
  
And, there'd been a thick wrap of bandages varound his left arm...and a dark, angry splotch of red peering through the fabric.  
  
"Your arm," Tamahome said quietly.   
  
Nuriko turned, glanced at him as if in surprise. "It's not bad," he said, shrugging slightly. "Just a scratch."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Hai, hai...ne, worry about Miaka, not me."  
  
Tamahome let out a soft sigh...but said nothing, merely followed Nuriko down the stairs, into the lower level of the inn...out into the fresh, clear morning.   
  
His jaw clenched. //It should've been me, fighting that beast...not you, Nuriko. It should've been me.\\  
  
---  
  
  
*More to come soon. But, until then...let me know what you think. Arrigato! ^_^. ^_^. 


	2. Only You - 2

"Only You" - continued from chapter 1  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Miaka was waiting for them just outside, looking happy and refreshed in the cool winter sunlight. As the sounds of their voices drew nearer, the girl turned, blushed a fierce red...Nuriko grimaced inwardly. The way she was looking at him...  
  
//She knows.\\  
  
He knew it instantly, without thought or consideration--Miaka knew. She'd overheard, or she'd guessed, or she'd figured it out just from what he'd said yesterday...but, whatever the case...she knew. He resisted the initial urge to run in the other direction, resisted even the urge to pull her aside and explain it to her--make her understand that he wasn't going to try for her, that he wanted her to be with Tamahome because being with him made her happy...but, no...no, it was all right. Already feeling himself calming, Nuriko drew in a long, cool breath of the frigid morning air, let it out slowly through his nostrils. No. He didn't have to say anything right now, because...because, Miaka didn't look angry. She didn't look irritated or upset or even embarrassed...no. She was smiling--a warm, pleasant, friendly smile...a thankful smile.   
  
Abruptly, he realized that Tamahome had spoken...and, a moment later, realized just what he'd said. He reached forward, dragged the younger man close. "Baaaka," he breathed, smiling softly. "I told you, nothing's going to change. What's holding you up?" The violet-haired seishi cleared his throat lightly, released his grip on Tamahome's ear and moved to mount his horse. "I'll go get the shinzaho," he announced witha slight smile. "You two find Chichiri and the others."  
  
A moment later, he sat firmly on the back of his horse, fingers wrapped lightly around the reigns, ready to dig his heels into the leathery flank and be on his way...but, then, there was a warm hand on his arm, the weight of Tamahome's presence just beside him.  
  
"No," the younger man said firmly, His eyes were dark and solemn, his voice low...steady...solid. "Nuriko...stay with Miaka. I'll go get the shinzaho."  
  
Nuriko frowned. "Tama..."  
  
"Daijobu," Tamahome countered with a slight smile, rising up onto his own horse with a quick, deft leap. "You had enough excitement yesterday, didn't you? Besides," he added with a slight grimace, "your arm..."  
  
"Is fine," Nuriko interjected, still frowning slightly. He raised his left arm, made a show of stretching it, bending it, rotating it at the shoulder. "See? It's fine."  
  
Abruptly, though, he realized that Miaka was staring at him with wide, concerned eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line of worry. "Nuriko, your arm," she murmured. "...I forgot..." She shook her head slightly, came forward and leaned against the side of his horse. "Ne, let Tamahome go get the shinzaho...onegai?"  
  
The concern in her voice...the soft touch of her hand against his arm...Nuriko sighed, hung his head slightly. "All right, all right," he muttered at last. "I'll stay."   
  
His feet thudded into the wispy layer of snow a moment later, and he felt a shiver of cold work its way through his spine, make him momentarily thankful that he wouldn't have to be climbing any mountains today... After a moment of standing by, watching Miaka and Tamahome exchange their goodbyes, Nuriko drew in a long breath, stamped forward and placed his hands on his hips. "You be careful," he warned, his voice low and hard, his gaze latched on the other man's eyes. "We don't have the flare anymore, so if something happens..." He trailed off, shook his head. "Watch yourself, Tamahome."  
  
Tamahome nodded. "Hai, Nuriko. I will."  
  
The two stared at each other for a long moment, caught up in their own thoughts and considerations...then, finally, Nuriko let out a soft breath of air through parted lips, smiled. "Don't forget," he said quietly, that soft smile still bending his mouth upwards. "When you get back...you promised me."  
  
Miaka binked. "Ne, promised what?"  
  
Smiling, Tamahome stared down at his two friends, lifted a hand in farewell. "I won't forget, Nuriko." Then, tugging on the reigns, Tamahome turned the horse towards the city gates, started it ambling forwards. "Keep watch over Miaka!" he called over his shoulder.   
  
"Hai!" Nuriko returned.  
  
Nodding slightly, Tamahome dug his heels into the flank of the horse, and was soon rocketing forward, the wind sweeping the hair back from his forehead, making it fly wildly about his face. A few moments later, he'd passed through the city gates, turned towards the far-off rise of Mount Black...and then, he was completely out of sight around the edge of the city wall, only the rhythmic thud of horse's hooves and the darkened imprints in the snow to mark his passing.   
  
Nuriko stared after him for a long moment, arms folded lightly over his chest, a slight frown creasing at his brow.   
  
//Be careful, Tamahome,\\ he prayed silently. //If you get yourself killed...I'll never forgive you.\\  
  
~*~*~  
  
It had been a long, hard climb...but now, finally, he was at the top. The air was fresh and clear, biting deeply into his lungs, making him feel awake and aware and alive...and irritated. He glared again at the heavy boulder, pressed his fists lightly against his hips and let out an exasperated sigh. He'd come all this way...and, Nuriko was the only one who could move the damn boulder. Which meant, naturally, that he had another pleasant journey over the snowy mountain side ahead of him...another twenty minutes of slipping and sliding and falling and freezing...gah. What a day.  
  
As he turned to begin the long trek back down, he thought he caught a glimpse of movement, a streak of dark fur...but, by the time he managed to swing his head around to look at it, it was gone. Tamahome frowned, staring into the frigid stillness for another moment, hoping the movement would be repeated...but, there was nothing, just the bright streaks of sunlight, the light patter of snowflakes against his skin. Shaking his head slightly, the dark-haired seishi tugged the cloak more tightly around his body, drew in a long breath...and began the descent. It was just as cold and unpleasant as he'd expected.  
  
~ ~ ~ 


	3. Only You - 3

"Only You" - continued from 2  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
No matter what she might know...conversation was as it always was with Miaka--light, friendly, and pleasant. In fact, Nuriko couldn't remember the last time the words had come so easily to his lips, or the smiles...or the laughter. It was as if...as if, all his life, he'd been standing outside the circle of where he was supposed to be, as if he was always an outsider, always looking in...but, now... Now, he stood in the very center of where all his heart cried out for him to be, stood with the warmth of love and the light of friendship and the contentment that only moments like these could bring. And, gods, it felt GOOD. Just walking here beside this girl, smiling and laughing and talking about whatever came to mind...he couldn't remember ever having been happier in his life.   
  
"Ne, Nuriko?"  
  
Startled from his thoughts, the eighteen-year-old blinked, glanced down at the girl with a questioning tilt of his eyebrow. "Hrm?"  
  
Miaka was staring down at the soft cotton of her mittens, pressing the tips lightly together as she walked. Her lips, he noticed, were twisted slightly downwards, and her gaze never left the safety of her hands...even as she spoke. "L...Last night," she began a bit hesitantly. "When you were talking to Tamahome..." She paused for a long moment, taking slow, shuffling steps over the snow-covered road...and, then came to a slow halt in the center of the street, turned to face him. Even as she did, however, those eyes stayed trained on her mittens, and her voice was soft, halting, and tentative. "I...I just wanted to...well, to say..."  
  
Nuriko closed his eyes briefly, a sliver of genuine anguish slicing into his heart. Gods, she knew...and she was angry about it, wasn't she? Or...or, she hated him for it or she wanted him to leave her alone or...or something...gods. Mattaku, how could he've been so stupid? He'd spent more of his life eavesdropping on other people's conversations than any rational human being had a right to, and yet he'd had no idea she was there...he hadn't even CONSIDERED that she might be listening in...gah. He deserved this, then. He deserved her spite, her anger, her disgust...maybe even her hatred. But...but, if she hated him...then, why the light-hearted conversation? Why the comfortable walk? Why any of this--why be kind when she was just going to throw it all back in his face a few moments later??  
  
He realized, suddenly, that she'd broken the stare from her mittens and was gazing up at him, her forehead creased slightly in concern. "Ne, Nuriko...you don't look well...do you wanna sit down?" Her eyes widened. "Is it your arm? Does it hurt? Here--sit down over here..." She took a short step forward, grabbed onto his right arm and began to lead him towards a nearby wall...but, he stood firm, shook his head slightly.  
  
"Iie," he said softly. "Daijobu." He realized, rather suddenly, that Miaka's fingers were still pressing lightly against his arm, warm and solid against his skin...he let out a soft sigh. "Gomen," he murmured. "I'm just...just tired."  
  
Miaka blinked at him for a moment, looking concerned and puzzled...then, she shrugged slightly, let her gaze drift downward again. "Un...okay. Ne, you wanna rest for awhile?"  
  
All right...so, she obviously didn't hate him. But...but, then, what had she been about to say?? Gods...why did things have to be so damned complicated? Things were so much easier when Miaka was just Miaka and he was just Nuriko...gaaaaah. It was so frustrating...and so exasperating.   
  
Realizing abruptly that Miaka was still waiting for an answer, he shook his head lightly, readjusted his grip on the reigns of the horse and took a few short steps forward. "Iie," he replied in a stronger voice. "I'll be all right. We need to find the others as soon as possible."  
  
"Oh...hai."   
  
They began to walk, Miaka falling into an oppressive silence as they moved...and it wasn't difficult to figure out just what she might be thinking about.  
  
"He'll be all right," he said at last, putting all the reassurance he could muster into his voice. "You'll see, Miaka...he'll probably show up any minute now."  
  
Miaka swallowed, glanced down at her mittens again. "Hai," she said quietly. "I guess...I guess you're right."  
  
They walked onward in silence.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He was cold, he was wet...and he was pissed off.   
  
"Where are you, Miaka?" Tamahome muttered. He rubbed his hands together as he walked, struggling to work some semblance of warmth back into them. Since both his hands were rather wet, however, all it did was spread the moisture a little more thinly on his skin, make his flesh shrivel up into tiny, watery wrinkles. He sighed, wondering if he was going to have to circle the city again...then, straightened, abruptly, as he caught sight of a flash of violet hair, heard the rhythmic thud-thud of horse's hooves...  
  
He dashed forward, sprinted through a crowded street and turned a corner...and, there they were--Nuriko and Miaka, walking side by side down the snowy road, the horse trailing contentedly behind them. He nearly called out...but decided against it, remembering the creature Nuriko and Miaka had told him about yesterday...the one who'd tried to kill them... Steeling himself briefly against the bitter cold, the dark-haired seishi drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly through his nostrils, and broke into a run. As he moved, his footsteps echoed loudly in his ears--so loudly, in fact, that he almost glanced back over his shoulder, checked to see if anyone was following him...but, he didn't, because, there were Miaka and Nuriko, getting ready to turn another corner and take them out of reach agaaaaain...  
  
//Damn it,\\ he swore silently. //When did this turn into some kind of game of tag??\\  
  
Finally, however, he managed to draw close enough for the two to notice his thudding footsteps, glance back at him... Miaka immediately broke into a wide grin, raised her arms up above her head and began to jump up and down.  
  
"Tamahome!" she squealed. "You're back!"  
  
He smiled and ran towards her, already lifting his arms to sweep her up into his embrace.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He stopped, breathing heavily from the exertion of running, his arms hanging loose and heavy from his shoulders, and stared down into the lightly-blowing snow. A dark, pleased grimace stretched itself over his lips, bore the jagged edges of his fangs to the unseeing humans below. Ashitare smiled, letting his gaze drift from the dark-haired man, Suzaku no Miko...to him.   
  
Him. The one who'd hurt him...  
  
The one who would die. Oh, yes. The one who would die.  
  
A moment later, he'd dropped silently to the ground, crept to the edge of the alley, and peered out. It would take only an instant--the one who'd stung him looked fragile...weak...it wouldn't take much at all. And, then, once he'd taken care of him...then, Suzaku no Miko.   
  
Yes.   
  
Tensing his muscles and drawing in a deep breath, Ashitare took a long step out into the open...and began to run towards the unsuspecting back of the one who'd hurt him. He could already taste the blood on his lips, even before he reached him.  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	4. Only You - 4

  
AN: My apologies to those of you who like Ashitare. I have nothing against him...but for the sake of this scene, well...he isn't always referred to in the most flattering light. Gomen ne. :)  
AN2: I don't know how to spell "omae ra." Dinnae kill me, onegai. :)  
  
---  
  
"Only You" - continued from 3  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
One moment, he was smiling softly, watching as Miaka and Tamahome pressed into one another, their eyes lightly closed in usual loving bliss...and the next moment, there was a slight scuffle behind him, he started to turn...  
  
"NURIKO!" Tamahome screamed.  
  
He caught a flash of grey fur, a glimpse of outstretched claws and gnashing fangs...and, then, he was springing out of the way as best he could, his flat-soled shoes sliding on the snow, sending him hurtling down onto his side on the ground...but, even as he fell, he knew he hadn't managed to move quickly enough, that the monster was right there, right above him, ready to strike... Nuriko rolled quickly onto his back, shot up a leg and felt his shoe strike into something solid--the creature's stomach... The beast fell backwards a step, barely affected by the kick, then raised its clawed arm again, grinned down at him with a wide, toothy smile... But, that extra second was all Nuriko needed. He kicked his legs up over his head, flipped over onto his feet...and dodged to the side, just barely missing a clawed punch aimed for his face.  
  
"Nuriko!"  
  
It was Miaka. He risked a glance in her direction, ducked low beneath another punch and nearly slipped again as his foot slid over a patch of ice. He quickly regained his balance, however, drew in a deep breath of the chill, icy air.   
  
"Tamahome, get her out of here!" he cried, noticing the other man coming towards him, obviously trying to help. "Hurry! He's gonna come after her nex--" He broke off, suddenly, as one of the creature's fists thudded heavily into his chest, sent him flying helplessly backwards. The fabric of his cloak and shirt frayed out beneath the streak of sharpened claws, fluttered away, bore the smooth, bruised skin of his chest. A moment later, he slammed into the wall of a nearby building, fell gasping and wincing to his knees.   
  
"Nuriko!" Miaka shrieked.  
  
Grimacing and fighting against the stars flickering over his vision, the violet-haired seishi somehow managed to crawl back to his feet, clutching at his sides as he moved. There was a hot, painful jabbing sensation flooding from his ribs, and a suffocating warmth building in his lungs, threatening to suffocate him...but, he fought it back, brushed up a hand and swept away the thin trickle of blood that had been sliding by his eye, marring his vision.   
  
The beast was coming towards him again, walking slowly, teasingly...and, Tamahome was walking up behind it, his seishi symbol already glowing a fiery crimson on his forehead. "Omae ra!" he shouted, slamming his fists down at his sides, glaring angrily out at the beast from beneath a wash of dark bangs. "Damn you...your fight is with me!"  
  
The creature paused, turning slightly in its stance to stare out at the young seishi. A thin, ghastly smile stretched at its mouth, and a cross between a growl and a laugh ripped from its lips, rang eerily in the empty streets. "You...later," it roared, still chuckle-growling softly. "Now..." The hideous smile widened. "For now, I kill him..." His gaze shifted to Miaka. "Then, her. THEN you."  
  
Then, with barely a pause or so much as a flicker of breath, the beast turned, leaped with snarling teeth towards where Nuriko had been standing...and came to a sudden, jarring halt, suddenly faced with the unexpected sight of a very empty wall. The creature frowned slightly, looking vaguely confused...then, its eyes widened, and it began to turn...but, it was too late. Nuriko sprang out from the shadows of a nearby wall, latched onto the creature's back and started to wrap his arms around that thick, muscled neck...but, before he had a chance to do much damage, the beast had recovered and ducked low to the ground, loosening the smaller man's grip. During the precious second Nuriko struggled to maintain his grasp, the beast stretched up, grabbed onto his left arm, and sent him hurtling through the air. Nuriko struck the ground hard, hearing the crack of bones shattering in his arm, the rush of the breath flooding from his lungs...but somehow, he managed to crawl back to his feet a second later, to glare out at the beast from beneath a thick line of blood-matted bangs.  
  
"Tamahome!" he called. His voice was hoarse, broken...but it echoed clearly through the streets, made Tamahome freeze where he was. "Get Miaka out of here! NOW!"  
  
All seemed to freeze for a moment.   
  
The monster stood still in the center of the street, clawed hands clenched into fists in front of it, while Tamahome stood only a few feet away, the sign of the ogre burning a screaming red on his forehead...and, then there was Miaka, hovering at the edge of the street with both hands clasped over her mouth, a look of horror and fear flickering in her eyes.   
  
"TAMAHOME, GO!" Nuriko cried. "If you don't, he'll kill h--" His voice broke in the middle of the sentence, and he was forced to sink weakly to his knees, spend a long moment coughing and gasping, tasting blood on his lips... Finally, he recovered, rose up onto his feet again. "Go...PLEASE!"  
  
Tamahome stared at him for a long moment, his eyes wide and pained...and then a look of determination swept over his features, tightened his jaw, pursed his lips. "No," he said in a low, angry voice. "NO! I won't leave you, Nuriko!" He turned, sank into a fighting stance and glared out at the beast. "COME ON!"  
  
Miaka let out a soft cry. "No...Tamahome...!"  
  
"BAKA!" Nuriko bellowed. "Get the hell out of here, you damned idiot!"  
  
But, it was too late. The monster let out a loud, bone-chilling howl, stretched its arms out briefly to the side...and charged. Tamahome was ready for it, though, leaping high up into the air as the beast drew nearer, spinning mid-flight, coming down on the other side... As he landed, he twirled in the snow, slammed his foot hard into the monster's unsuspecting back...and froze, eyes widening in fearful disbelief.  
  
The creature turned slowly, smiling a wide, toothy grin. The force of the kick didn't even seem to have fazed it, seemed to have done nothing more than alert it to the fact that he stood back here... Suddenly wondering what he'd gotten himself into, Tamahome leaped out of the way of the slashing claws, rolled a few times on the ground and sprang back up to his feet.   
  
By this time, Nuriko had managed to recover somewhat from his own wounds and was walking haltingly towards them, clutching at his shattered left arm, the breath moving with audible difficulty through his lungs. "Tama...home," he grunted. "Get...away...only..." He drew in a deep, painful breath. "Only I have the strength to kill it."  
  
Tamahome glanced at him from underneath one of the creature's slashing punches, shook his head fervently. "You're hurt!" he exclaimed. "Go get Miaka out of here, find the others. With their help--" He paused, grunted as he ducked out of the way of another punch. "With their help we might be able to kill him!"  
  
"Tamahome, don't be stupid!"  
  
"You, don't be stupid! You can't beat this thing!"  
  
"Neither can you!"  
  
"Don't argue! Get Miaka out of here!"  
  
Nuriko stood there for a long moment in silence, watching as Tamahome danced agilely from side to side, easily sidestepping any and all blows that came his way...but, his steps were gradually slowing, his movements lagging...he couldn't keep this up for much longer... Sooner or later, Tamahome was going to make a mistake, and then... The violet-haired seishi winced inwardly, took a precious moment to glance over at Miaka. The girl leaned weakly against a nearby wall, looking small and alone and frightened. Two slim hands were pressed tightly against her mouth, and tears were streaming silently down her cheeks, her eyes riveted to Tamahome, his movements...his continuous stream of failed attacks.  
  
//She loves him so much. If...if he dies...\\ He closed his eyes, drew in a long, clean breath. //If he dies, it'll kill her. And, so...so. That means there's only one thing I can do.\\  
  
Nuriko drew in another deep, heavy breath, fought against the pain raging from his broken arm, his shattered ribs, his battered body...and rose to his full height. Then, before Tamahome could stop him or the creature could notice he stood back here, he was charging towards the beast's broad, furred back, the bracelets glowing a fiery red on his wrists, the willow blazing like fire on his chest. A moment later, he was within range of the creature, beginning to leap up into the air, fly towards that muscled back where he could latch onto that thick neck with his good arm, snap it before the beast knew what he was doing...yes...yes...it was going to work...it was going to work...! He was flying, leaping, soaring...it was going to work...it was going to--  
  
And then, at the last instant, Tamahome's eyes flicked up to meet his own...and, then the beast was turning, lifting its arm, time seeming tick by frame by frame by frame...  
  
And, then everything stopped.  
  
Dimly, he heard Miaka screaming, heard Tamahome crying out his name...but, all he could see was the face of the beast, just inches away from his own...those eyes...like animal eyes, like demon eyes...staring into his soul, ripping at the very fabric of his identity, tugging him away... Death was in those eyes...and silent, painful suffocation. If he gave into those eyes, he was going to fade away into nothingness, be swallowed up into oblivion...never be remembered...never be spoken of...never exist at all...ever... It took all his strength to break away from those dark, glaring eyes...all his strength to rise up from the death staring into his face and look down at himself.   
  
The creature's hairy arm was holding him effortlessly in the air, its muscles not even trembling with the exertion of suspending his weight...and, the claws...they were ripping through his chest, slicing through his body, tearing out through his back. A flood of warm, bubbling scarlet was streaking over those furred knuckles, washing over that muscled arm...staining the snow a hot, gurgling crimson.  
  
Nuriko shuddered once, not quite feeling the pain yet, not quite grasping just exactly what had happened yet...but knowing, instantly...that he was going to die. And, once he did...Miaka and Tamahome were also going to die...and this creature...this beast...this demon...was going to get the shinzaho. Seiryuu would win...Kutou would win...Nakago would win.   
  
A thin trickle of blood streamed from the side of his mouth, whispered down his chin...dripped onto the creature's face. The beast blinked as the drop of crimson splattered onto its nose, gave a low, hungry growl...and, that was when Nuriko struck.  
  
Not giving himself so much as a moment to reconsider, he wrenched his legs up from where they'd been dangling, planted his feet firmly on the beast's chest...and propelled himself forcefully backwards. He hit the snowy ground heavily on his feet, somehow managed to stay upright...and while the monster was ambling towards him, looking confused and angry and irritated, he ducked low to the ground, slid on a thick patch of ice directly beneath the beast's legs...and came up on the other side, leaped to his feet. A moment later, he'd sprung up onto the beast's back, wrapped his good arm heavily around the monster's throat...and begun to twist. His breath came in short, harsh gasps, and a low growl began to work from his throat, stretch into a grunting scream...his muscles ached, his body ached, the blood was streaming from his chest, his left arm was hanging limp and useless at his side...but, damn it, he was going to do this! Nakago was not going to win...Seiryuu was NOT going to be called...MIAKA AND TAMAHOME WERE NOT GOING TO DIE!!!  
  
He twisted again, harder this time, funnelling all his life force into the grip, all his energy, all his love and hate and fury...and then, finally, finally--SNAP! The monster's neck flicked hard to one side, those wide, angry eyes went suddenly, blessedly blank... The beast fell with a great thud to the ground...and all was silent.  
  
Nuriko stood above the stilled body for a long moment, gasping for breath and clutching at the angry, bloodied hole in his side...and, then he let out a heavy breath, glared down at the corpse with rare, fiery anger. "Never underestimate Nuriko-sama," he whispered.  
  
And then he fell to his knees in the snow, collapsed onto his side...and lay still.  
  
~*~*~*~ 


	5. Only You - 5

"Only You" - continued from 4  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He came awake slowly, gradually...like rising up a great, darkened staircase. The first thing he noticed was the cool, mottled sky above him, the streaks of sapphire and ivory...the lingering gold of the warm morning sun. He stared into that sky for a long time, hearing nothing, knowing nothing...glimpsing only that soft, pure blue...that clear, glorious beauty he'd never taken the time to appreciate before.  
  
He was lying on his back, the warmth of his blood seeping out into the snow...but, he regretted never having taken the time to look at this sky before, never having bothered to appreciate the beauty hanging just above him. And, it really was beautiful. All life was reflected in that sky...all life, all friendship, all love. He could almost see himself in the cool shift of clouds, the gentle strokes of the sun against the distant hills...yes. He could almost see it all.  
  
"N...Nuriko?"  
  
He blinked a few times, the dark wisps of his eyelashes moving slowly, almost painfully...flitting away the anguished tears flooding at his eyes, making the world seem clearer, brighter...realer. And, now that he looked...he realized that he was not alone, that he was lying here on the soft, crimson-stained snow with Miaka just beside him, holding his head in her lap...clutching onto the fingers of his right hand. He glanced briefly at his left arm, saw it lying limply beside him, bent at a strange, unnatural angle...it didn't hurt, though. Nothing did. There was a soft, whispering warmth sliding over him, now, covering his flesh in a painless, comforting glow...drawing the agony from his body...drawing the life away...  
  
Miaka was leaning over him, her eyes large and filled with tears, struggling vainly to hold his limp body in her arms while still wiping at the wetness on her cheeks. At last, she gave up, let the tears slide down unchecked. "Nuriko," she repeated. Her voice broke halfway through the word, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to begin to cry in earnest, that she wouldn't be able to hear what he had to tell her...but, then, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, clutched onto his fingers a little more tightly. "Nuriko...Tamahome went to find the others. They...they should be back w-with Mitsukake...soon." Her eyes widened, and her voice quickened, grew more frantic. "So, d-don't move around, okay? Just lay here, and...and try not to move around too much...okay? Please?" The tears began to streak more quickly down her cheeks, trickle to the edge of her chin and drip very lightly onto his bloodied flesh.  
  
"Don't cry, Miaka," he managed. His voice was very soft, very low...but, he knew she heard it. Somehow, he managed to lift his hand from the confines of her fingers, wipe at the tears clinging to her cheeks with the side of his index finger. "It'll...be all right," he continued softly. "It isn't bad enough to kill me."  
  
But, it was...and, he knew it. In just a few moments...gods, in just a few moments, he was going to...die...wasn't he? He wondered, very briefly, what it would be like, what it would feel like...if he would be able to remember Miaka, Hotohori, Tamahome...the people he loved...if he would be able to see Korin again...   
  
"I can't leave you," he whispered.   
  
"Nuriko, please," Miaka pleaded, clutching at his hand, pulling it close to her chest and pressing it against the warmth of her heart. "Please...don't try to talk. Mitsukake will be here soon, and then...then...please..." She began to cry again.  
  
Nuriko stared up at her, feeling that suffocating warmth flooding into his lungs, that cool, heavy darkness wrapping itself over his body, over his vision...he blinked a few times, forced it back. No...he had to say this...he had to say this before he left...  
  
"You're such...a glutton," he murmured. "Clumsy...stupid...but..." He managed a weak, pained smile, tightened his grip on her hand as best he could. "But, there's something...special about you."  
  
Miaka pressed his hand to her cheek, her lip beginning to waver. "N-Nuriko..."  
  
"So...don't lose." His words were hard, fervent--she had to understand...she had to know how important this was... "No matter what."  
  
The girl's eyes were large and wet, the ghost of comprehension flitting beneath the soft, glistening green. She clutched more tightly onto his fingers, somehow managed to match his smile...but the expression never came close to touching her eyes. "What're you saying?" she asked softly. "You sound like...like we won't see each other again. That's impossible. I'll be watched over by Nuriko-sama..."  
  
He wanted to answer her, to say something--anything...to draw another breath, to pull her into his arms, to perhaps just stare at her for one more moment...but, the world was fading around him, now, drifting away into the darkness, tugging him with it... He felt the strength leaving his muscles, felt his fingers go limp in Miaka's slim hand...knew he was dying, knew this was the last moment he spent in this body, on this earth, with this girl he loved so dearly... He was...dying.   
  
But, as he faded away, as he felt himself slipping into the darkness, falling into the vast pits of oblivion...suddenly, something changed. A dark shadow formed above him--a crunch of snow, a pleading cry...a wash of soft, green light. And then, suddenly, he felt himself being dragged up from the blackened depths, felt himself rising swiftly to the surface as if through a vast, dark ocean...and, suddenly, the light flared around him, the breath surged back into his lungs, the life splashed back into his body.  
  
His back arched as he sucked in that first long, heavy breath, and he immediately began to cough, was forced to fall to his side on the snow, cough and gasp until he could breathe normally again...gods. Breathe normally...breathe... Nuriko drew in a long, sweet breath of the icy air, let it out slowly through his nostrils.  
  
Gods. Gods, he was alive. He was...he was alive!  
  
Suddenly, there were slim, warm arms around him, a welcome weight on his chest, a soft mass of hair resting beneath his chin...the sound of harsh, uncontrollable sobbing. Miaka was lying on top of him, her face buried in the now-unmarred flesh of his chest, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs, shuddering through him as he lay there, eyes lightly open, staring up at the sky. Gradually, he became aware of the presence of others around him, of Tamahome, kneeling there just behind Miaka, looking relieved and happy and a bit pale. And, there was Mitsukake, resting quietly a few feet away, his back pressed against the wall of a building, his eyes closed softly..contentedly. And, there was Tasuki...Chichiri...Chiriko...his friends, his brothers...his fellow seishi.   
  
Slowly, he realized that the strength seemed to have returned to his limbs, that he could move without much difficulty, even tense the weakened length of his left arm. Experimentally, he lifted his arms, held them out in front of him for a moment...and then, he lifted them a little higher, wrapped them tightly around Miaka's back and held her close.   
  
"It's all right," he whispered, closing his eyes tightly, savoring the warmth of the girl's body against his own, the cool touch of her tears against his skin. "I told you I couldn't leave you, ne?"  
  
Something thudded into his side. He glanced up in surprise, saw Tasuki standing there above him, wiping vainly at the tears streaking over his cheeks, looking angry and irritated and thankful all at once. "Damn you!" he bellowed, kicking him again in the ribs. "What the @(#*$&@$ is wrong with you, goin' up against a guy like that? Huh? What the @(#*$& is wrong with you???"  
  
"Sorry," he murmured. His eyes closed, very lightly. His voice sank to a whisper. "I almost died."  
  
Tasuki nodded angrily. "Damn right, you almost died. If Tamahome hadn't found us...if we hadn't been walkin' through the city...damn it, if we hadn't @#$*&$ FELT you..." He let out a heavy, irritated huff of air, kicked angrily at a patch of blood-stained snow. "Can't believe you @(*#$& did that," he whispered ardently. "Can't @#$*(& believe it."  
  
Mitsukake rose slowly to his feet, smiled gently down at the violet-haired seishi. "That's enough, Tasuki," he said quietly. "Let's help him up."  
  
They were moving towards him, then, Miaka slowly crawling up from where she'd been lying...and then, suddenly...something changed.  
  
A snarl, a flash of grey fur...his eyes widened, and he sat up straight where he lay, tried to scramble out of the way...gods, they didn't see, they didn't realize...Miaka was still sitting there, innocent, unseeing--and, there was the wolf, leaping for him...leaping for her...if he didn't do something--!  
  
"Look out!" he cried. He tried to tug her out of the way, but he couldn't--gods, he was still too weak! The wolf...somehow, it was that monster, wasn't it? He didn't know how...but, as he looked into those eyes, saw the wolf lunging towards him and Miaka...somehow, he knew they were the same eyes he'd gazed into before, the same eyes that had almost swallowed him up....  
  
Miaka was turning, very slowly...so were the others...none of them saw, none of them could do anything...gods, no!   
  
And then...abruptly...there was a flash of reddish fabric, a sweep of dark hair...and the wolf went surging to the side, fell heavily to the ground. Tamahome landed hard on top of it, having leapt from the side, knocked it out of the way...but, before he could climb to his feet, before he could get away...the wolf was twisting on its side, lashing out at him with teeth, claws, fangs...Tamahome cried out, tried to fight against it...but, the wolf had a grip on his flesh, was tearing at it, ripping at it, rending it from him...  
  
"TAMAHOME!" Miaka screamed.  
  
With the sound of her voice, the others broke free of their shocked paralysis, began to rush forward all at once. Tasuki got there first.  
  
"LEKKA...SHIEN!"  
  
The fire surged forward, ripped over the blood-stained snow...slammed directly into the wolf and incinerated it in seconds. The charred remains fell heavily to the ground, lay still...and it was only then that any of them got a full glimpse of Tamahome.  
  
Miaka let out a high, shrieking squeal in the back of her throat, fell limply to her knees and tried to crawl to his side. "T...Tama...home," she whispered.  
  
The dark-haired seishi lay on his side in the snow, unmoving, no sign of breath...no sign of life. The flesh of his arms, chest, throat...it had been torn by the fangs, the claws...his tunic had been ripped into tattered, crimson-stained shreds, lay scattered around him in the snow. Somehow, Nuriko managed to crawl to his feet, sprinted to Tamahome's side...lifted the battered body up into his arms. Miaka was there a moment later, barely able to speak for the weight of the tears in her throat, barely able to form a word or thought or to even draw breath.   
  
Nuriko clutched the lifeless body to his chest, carefully raised his hand over Tamahome's mouth and nostrils, let his shaking fingers rest there for a moment. "He's not breathing," he whispered.  
  
Miaka stared at him for a long moment as if not understanding, shook her head and lunged forward. "No," she whimpered. Her fingers tugged at the tattered fabric, clutched at the torn, bloodied flesh of Tamahome's arm. "No...no, he...he...he must be breathing! Nuriko! Check again--check again, please!!"  
  
Nuriko felt himself begin to tremble, felt the anguish rising up through his throat. He stared out plaintively at the others, met Mitsukake's horrified gaze. "Please...Mitsukake," he said, his voice hoarse, broken. "Can't...can't you do something?"  
  
The healer could only shake his head, eyes wide and pained. "I...I can only heal once...I...I can't..."  
  
"Tamahome!" Miaka shrieked. "TAMAHOME, NO! PLEASE!"  
  
The violet-haired seishi closed his eyes, felt the life ebbing from the body in his arms, felt the icy darkness of death washing over Tamahome, sweeping him up into its embrace...gods. Gods, it had happened again. It had...happened again. "My fault," he whispered. "M...my fault..."  
  
Miaka's shrieking sobs echoed into the chill morning...rose up into the perfect, mottled sapphire of the sky.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
  
  
  
AN: I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!! *cowers and hides* 


	6. Only You - 6

"Only You" - 6  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Miaka hadn't said a word since they'd returned to the inn.  
  
Shivering, Nuriko pulled the dark cloak more closely around his body, tugged his knees up to his chest and rested his head against the window sill. It wasn't cold in here, he knew--the fire had been lit, sending a comforting warmth flooding through the room, bathing everything in a soft golden glow, and Mitsukake had wrapped him in blankets upon their return, had even had the decency to make him a steaming mug of tea...but, the chill didn't come from his skin. Of course, he was colder than usual, having lost a great deal of blood in the fight...but, the real chill came from his heart, his soul. Tamahome was dead. His friend, his star brother...he was dead.  
  
And, it was all his fault.  
  
Swallowing another broken sob, Nuriko let out a shuddering breath of air, let his head sink down into his arms. He sat just before the window, staring out into the flickering white and blue of the snowy sky, wrapped in a blanket and the soft black of his cloak, trying to ignore the shallow breathing echoing across the room from Miaka's bed. Their return to the hotel following the death of Tamahome seemed blurry and shadowed, but Nuriko remembered hollowly seeing Mitsukake carrying Miaka up to their room, even as Tasuki and Chichiri helped him up the stairs just a few moments later. The girl hadn't made a sound since the healer's first sorrowful announcement that Tamahome was dead...and, Nuriko found himself wishing that she would cry, sob, scream, do something...because, anything was better than this terrible, terrible silence.   
  
Still shivering violently, he turned his head slightly, caught a glimpse of Miaka lying motionless in the bed, shrouded in blankets, her eyes wide and open and staring blankly at the ceiling. Gods...poor Miaka. How was she even still functioning? How was she even still...alive?  
  
His legs were shaky, but he pushed them off the edge of the chair anyway, planted his bare feet firmly on the wood of the floor and tried to stand. A mass of blankets came with him, flooding around his legs like skirts, creating the long-lost illusion of femininity, even as the exposed skin of his chest counterbalanced it, granted him a vague spark of masculinity. He paused a moment in his trek across the room, staring blankly into the far mirror with something like comprehension in his eyes. He didn't look at all like a man, even with his hair cut...even with his chest bared. Why did he look so much like a woman, even now, when he'd decided to be a man again?  
  
Who the hell was he kidding, anyway? Tamahome...Tamahome had been a man. Strong, brave, courageous...no wonder Miaka had loved him. He could protect her...he could love her as a man loves a woman, not as a strange, half-gendered freak loves--  
  
No.  
  
He drew in a long breath, let it out heavily through his lips and began to walk again. No. No, he wasn't going to do this to himself. Now was not the time to worry about his own problems, his own insecurities...now was the time to be there for Miaka...to somehow make right this terrible, unforgivable thing he'd done. Tamahome was dead because of him. If he couldn't make it right...at least he could do all that he could for Miaka, make her...make her forget.   
  
A few moments later, Nuriko had managed to stagger his way to Miaka's side, had lowered himself carefully onto the edge of the mattress. He stared down at her for a long moment with something like tears welling at the back of his throat, straining to find some semblance of the girl he'd known within those wide, unblinkingly-vacant green eyes.   
  
He swallowed back the tears, cleared his throat and brushed briefly at his eyes. His voice, he forced to be light, gentle...friendly. Even if his heart was tearing. Even if he felt like dying.  
  
"M...Miaka," he began, touching a hand gently to her shoulder, nudging her slightly beneath the blankets. "M-Miaka...are you...are you there?"  
  
Miaka lay still on her back, the blankets tugged to her chin, her eyes still staring blankly at the ceiling. The soft brown of her hair had come free of its typical side buns and now lay in measured waves over her shoulders, clinging to the side of her face...brushing lightly against his fingers as he pressed his hand against her shoulder.   
  
"Miaka...please. Can you...can you...hear me?"  
  
Abruptly, the young miko drew in a long breath...and blinked. Her eyes, slowly, cleared of the blur of vacancy, came into focus...slid from the spot they'd been staring so vacantly at and moved, shifted...came to rest on him. For a long moment, she stared blankly at him, motionless but for that slow movement of her eyes...and then, a well of tears gathered at the dark wall of her eyelashes, slid in a silver stream over her cheeks. Her voice was like daggers, grating against his heart.  
  
"I didn't dream it...did I?" she whispered, her lips barely moving, the words barely audible in the stillness of the room. "He's really..." She closed her eyes, and another crystal stream of tears flooded free. "Tamahome's really..." Her voice sank. "...dead."  
  
For a long moment, he considered what to say, wondered if there was some magical phrase that he could utter to make it better for her, make it easier to handle...make it so Tamahome would not be dead, so HE would've died instead...so Miaka could be happy again. But, he knew that there was nothing he could say that would fix it, nothing he could do...and so, he simply nodded, squeezed his eyes shut against the tears, and said, "Yes."  
  
Miaka began to cry then, softly, and all he could do was sit beside her and comfort her as best he could, letting her hold onto him, cry into his chest...leting her scream, letting her fingernails dig into the soft skin of his shoulders as the agony of loss grew to be too much. After a time of this, she fell asleep there in his arms, and all he could do was lie there, feeling stunned and numb, and hold her until he fell asleep himself.   
  
//There's nothing I can do to bring you back, Tamahome,\\ he thought dully, feeling himself drifting off into sleep, nothing but the warmth of Miaka's body and the soft silk of the blankets against his skin to chain him to the waking world. //But, I swear to you, I'll devote my life to making Miaka happy...to keeping her safe, making sure she's all right. I can't bring you back, Tamahome...but I'll make sure that Miaka's happy. I swear to you...I'll make sure she's happy. It's the only thing I can do, isn't it? I'll do it, Tamahome.   
  
I'll do it.\\  
  
----  
  
  
[Gomen, not much happens in this edition--but, more is coming soon! Honest! I'm also trying to work on some of my other fics, as well, and so if luck be with me, I'll add more to this and other fics in the coming days. *crosses fingers* Until then, however, let me know what you think...even if this chapter is slightly...er...pointless. :P Ja! ~Ryuen] 


	7. Only You - 7

---  
  
Only You - 7  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He knew he was asleep...but the echoes of reality flooded around him, washed over him in a shadow of half-heard murmurs and half-understood insinuations.   
  
"@*$& look at 'em, 'Chiri. How the hell they gonna do us any good gettin' that Shinzaho? Miaka...I mean, @*#$&$, she's..."  
  
"I know, Tasuki. But, what else can we do no da? We can't leave them behind..."  
  
"Perhaps we can."  
  
"Demo, Mitsukake..."  
  
"Miaka is not going to heal quickly from this. If she goes into a battle situation with something like this weighing on her shoulders, she'll find a way to die. That's not a prediction. That's a fact."  
  
"But, @*#$&, Mitsukake, what the hell can we do for 'er? It's not like we can just @!*&$ send her back to Konan or somethin' so Hotohori can take care of 'er..."  
  
"Hm. Why can't we na no da?"  
  
"Hai. Nuriko and Miaka should both return to Konan--both of them will need a long time to recover...and, I think we would all agree that neither of them will be able to help in getting the shinzaho the way they are now."  
  
"Well...yeah...but...@(#*$&, Mitsukake, we can't just send the two of 'em off by themselves the way they are now, either. They'd never @(*$&@$ make it! At least when they're with us, there's somebody to look out for 'em..."  
  
"One of us should go with them then no da."  
  
"Yeah, that's @#(*$& great...but who? I mean, hell, I'd be glad to go...but...@$*&$, 'Chiri, I ain't runnin' out on you, Chiriko, everybody. I came here to find that @(*#$& Shinzaho, and I'm not @*(&#$ leavin' until we do!"  
  
"Maybe no da...it would be best if you went with them, Misukake."  
  
"Hai. I was already planning on it."  
  
"That way...if Miaka gets any sicker no da..."  
  
"Hai."  
  
"@(*$& damn it. Why the (*#&$ did this have to happen? Tama...@(*&$ (@*#&$@ damn it."  
  
"I know, Tasuki no da. I know."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He was warm.  
  
It was the first thing he noticed, and thus the first thing that started him on the slow ascent into wakefulness. He was warm.  
  
For a long moment, he lay there in darkness and silence, unmoving, simply breathing...savoring. There was a soft, sweet, honey-like fragrance pervading his senses, joined by the far-off, steaming mint of hot tea, the tangy, buttery fluff of cooking eggs, and the more distant scent of a crackling wood fire--dark, dusky, smoky, but vaguely pine-scented...like home, he found himself thinking. Where was he again? He shifted a bit where he lay, eyes still closed, and tried to concentrate on his other senses, on...touch. Now that he focused, he could feel the warmth of the morning sunlight sweeping its smooth golden rays over his cheeks, his forehead, granting the shadows of his eyelids a warm, reddish hue that made everything feel like sunset. He could feel, also, the silky presence of the bed sheets, clumped at his waist, and the wispy tickle of hair, hanging in thin, silken strands over his skin.   
  
But...there was something else, too. It took him a moment to remember, to know why he was warm where the sunlight hadn't touched yet, to know why that soft honey fragrance seemed so familiar... And then, abruptly, he remembered, and, even as the ache started again in his heart, even as he felt the stirrings of guilt and shame gnawing again at his conscience, Nuriko opened his eyes...and stared out into the world that seemed to keep betraying him.  
  
He was lying on his back in the bed, a flood of blankets tangled around his legs, a soft blue feather pillow resting comfortably beneath his head. And...Miaka was still there, still with him...still asleep. She was lying twisted on her side in the bed, her legs and lower body hidden beneath a mass of blankets. The rest of her, however... She was clinging to him, her small arms wrapped around him, tucked up behind his shoulders, and her head was resting comfortably on his chest, the soft auburn of her hair whispering lightly against the bottom of his chin.  
  
He could feel her heart beating as he lay there, could actually feel her breathing against him...feel her breathing in his arms. It was a sensation unlike any he'd ever experienced before, and he realized with a dark, tearing suddenness that he didn't want to leave this moment, didn't want to take so much as a step outside of this cautious circle of safety and touch and drowsy warmth.  
  
But...  
  
He sighed, lifted one hand from where it had rested, protectively, over Miaka's back...and touched lightly at the top of her head. "Ne, Miaka..." His heart ached. His fingers, meanwhile, stroked gently at her hair, even as his voice--trembling only slightly--rose softly into her ears, that same gentle, lilting alto he knew she probably more closely associated with the female side of him. But...it was all right.  
  
"Ne, Miaka..." The false cheer hurt more than anything...but, how was Miaka going to heal when everyone around her was treating her like she should be upset? How was she going to heal if someone didn't make it seem like things were how they'd always been...?  
  
"Time to get up, ne, Miaka?" The girl stirred a bit at the sound of his voice, squeezed her eyes shut and yawned. He frowned, poked her not-so-gently on the top of the head. "Miaaaaaaaaaaaaka. Time to get up."  
  
She shifted again, and, slowly, those dark eyelashes parted, made way for the soft, mottled green below. Miaka blinked, lifted her head from his chest and stared up at him. "N...Nuriko?" She looked vaguely surprised. He wondered, briefly, how much of the day before she remembered...if she remembered why his arms and shoulders were red, scratched...if she remembered what she'd said.  
  
Not seeming yet to be quite fully awake, Miaka let out a heavy sigh, lay back down on him and closed her eyes. "I had...a bad dream," she murmured. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his flesh as she spoke, could still feel the rise and fall of her breathing melding into his own. "I...I dreamed that you went...you went to get the shinzaho...and that monster...he..." She broke off, squeezed her eyes shut more tightly. "I want to go home," she whispered.   
  
What could he do? He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, held her close. "I know," he murmured. "I know..." Abruptly, a memory struck into him, and he sat up a little straighter, drew in a sharp breath. "We're...going back to Konan," he said. "With Mitsukake."  
  
Miaka only nodded, not seeming to have heard or understood at all. Her eyes were still closed, her arms wrapped around him so tightly that it was almost hard to breathe. Was she afraid...of letting go?  
  
---  
  
  
[AN: More to come. Until then, let me know what you think! ^_~. ~Ryuen] 


	8. Only You - 8

Only You - 8  
  
~*~  
  
Miaka slept in his bed again the next night, clinging to him at times with such strength that her fingernails left little half-moon indents in his flesh. But, it was all right. The pain was nothing compared to the pain of that monster's claws, surging up through his chest...or, the pain of losing a friend; a brother, of knowing it was all HIS fault now just like as it was all those years ago when Korin--  
  
//No. Don't bring her into it. This is different. I'm not the same person I was then. It's DIFFERENT.\\  
  
And, yet it wasn't. Tamahome had died because of him, just as Korin had. Was that his lot in life? To always survive, but to sacrifice those he loved in exchange? Why did he always have to be the one who survived? It wasn't fair...  
  
"Nuriko?"  
  
He snapped free of the disturbing thoughts, forced a small smile to touch his lips. It was morning again--their last before he, Miaka, and Mitsukake left the others and began the long trek home, and the sunlight was cool and pale on his cheeks, filtered by the streaky glass of the window. Miaka still lay nestled in the crook of his arm, and so he was forced to twist his neck a little painfully to meet her eyes, to stare at her down the length of his nose. "Hai?"  
  
She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were locked on a distant spot on the wall, where a small figurine rested on a polished oaken shelf. Now that he took the time to examine it, he noticed that the figure was of a small girl, courtseying cutely with fistfuls of a wooden skirt clutched in her equally-wooden fingers. Miaka's eyes were riveted to it, caught in an unblinking stare that reminded him a little eerily of the glaze Tamahome's death had brought to those eyes. But, no, this was different. This glaze wasn't loss...it was memory.  
  
When at last she spoke, Miaka's voice was small. "Nuriko, I...I think we should take Tamahome back to Konan with us."  
  
The seishi felt a chill run up his spine. Take Tamahome back with them? Was Miaka delusional?? Blessed gods, that was just what they needed, Miaka going into denial and thinking that Tamahome was still alive. What would it take? Dragging her over to the dead body and making her look until she understood? She'd been fine yesterday--why was this happening now?  
  
Seeming, somehow, to notice the older boy's unspoken reaction, Miaka turned, offered the closest thing to a smile she'd managed since That Day. "Iie," she said softly. "I-I don't mean...Tamahome. I mean Tamahome's...his..."  
  
Nuriko closed his eyes. "His body," he whispered. "You want us to take his body back to Konan with us."  
  
Miaka nodded, turning back to the figurine with the hints of anguish in her eyes. "H...Hai. I think he would've wanted to be...buried...with his family."  
  
The familiar agony twisted in his chest at the words. Tamahome's family... Was he with them, now? Had Suzaku shown mercy during those last few moments, let Tamahome be comforted by the knowledge that he would soon be reunited with the ones he'd lived so much of his life to protect? And with that thought, another:  
  
//Will Miaka have to wait until the day she dies to be happy again?\\  
  
Before he had much chance to sort through this line of thinking, Miaka had risen from where she lay, swung her legs carefully over the edge of the bed and planted her feet on the floor. She was dressed in a soft blue nightgown the innkeeper--a plump, kind-faced woman named Kei--had given her after hearing about What Happened. Nuriko still remembered their first run-in with Kei, when he and Tamahome and Miaka had returned from learning the location of the shinzaho and come in to ask for a room. Kei had been working the front desk herself, greying auburn hair tugged up into a loose bun, eyes bright and blue in the fading daylight.   
  
"Oh, what a lovely couple you make!" she'd gushed as they entered, drawing Miaka's and Tamahome's hands into her own in greeting. Nuriko had hung back a bit, still nursing the wound to his shoulder and not much up for conversation, but she'd hurried to his side only a moment later, noticed the slash and immediately begun to gush again. "Oh, look at you, you poor boy! What happened to your arm? Why, look at this blood! Blessed heavens, we've got to get this wrapped before you bleed yourself dry! Come, come, I've got just the room for you three. Sorry it's only one, but business is booming. The room's built for two people, but I'm sure you won't have any troubles. Maybe the happy couple can share a bed, ne?"  
  
Nuriko smiled slightly, remembering the violent blush that had crept into his friends' cheeks at the words. The smile faded, turned bittersweet. Everything had seemed so RIGHT then. Korin's death was behind him, his love for Miaka was a gentle warmth within him, and they were going to get the shinzaho, call Suzaku and bring peace to Konan. For once in his life, everything had seemed RIGHT...and, then, that damned wolf had to leap out from the snow and destroy it all.  
  
No. He sighed lightly, brought his own legs over the bed and stood up, felt his fists clenching unconsciously at his sides. No, not the wolf. It was his teeth and claws that ripped his perfect world to shreds, but that beast hadn't been behind it. No. That had been...Nakago. The name felt vile within him, made him want to scrub his flesh until it burned. It was Nakago's fault. Tamahome's family, that creature attacking them, Tamahome's death...it was all his fault. And, great Suzaku, if it was the last thing he did...  
  
//I won't let him hurt you, anymore, Miaka,\\ he swore silently, the fervor of the words burning in his mind, stretching the anger into something almost palpable. His fists clenched a little tighter. //If it's the last thing I do...I'll kill him.\\  
  
--- 


End file.
